


Look to the Future Now (Traditions VI)

by Eicartgeorge



Series: 25 Days of Stydia Christmas [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Established Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eicartgeorge/pseuds/Eicartgeorge
Summary: Lydia and Stiles make the trip back to Beacon Hills with their kids in tow to spend Christmas with the Sheriff.Title comes from "Merry Christmas Everybody"





	Look to the Future Now (Traditions VI)

Noah Stilinski cursed the day his daughter-in-law got a job in New York.

 

Not really. He was extremely happy for them, he just hated that it made it so difficult to spend time with his granddaughters.

 

He'd only been able to make it out to New York 4 times since they moved, and each time he had to say goodbye, it was 10 times harder than the last.

 

That was why he was so excited when Stiles called to tell him they were going to be coming to Beacon Hills for Christmas this year.

 

He hadn't seen their youngest, Clara, since she was born (and that was over a year ago).

 

They were coming in the week before Christmas, and they'd already made plans to go Christmas tree shopping the moment they arrived.

 

When he heard the knock on the door, he jumped up from his chair.

 

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” the three-year-olds chorused.

 

“There's my girls!” he knelt down so that the two older ones could run into his arms. “Oh, you're so big!” he told them, and stood back up. “Awe, Clara!” he cooed to the one-year-old in Lydia's arms. “Come, see your old grandpa.” Clara's arms outstretched toward the older man and he planted a kiss on her forehead as he held her close. “Lydia, you're as beautiful as ever,” he told the banshee and kissed her cheek. He held the door open wider so everyone could come in.

 

“Good to see you too, Dad,” Stiles told him as he carried bags in his hands.

 

“Well, son, put the bags down so you can give me a proper hug.”

 

“Well, Dad, put my child down so _you_ can give _me_ a proper hug.”

 

The sheriff, almost begrudgingly, handed Clara back to her mother, but then enveloped Stiles in a bone-crushing hug.

 

“You need to visit more often,” he told Stiles.

 

“Yeah, I could say the same thing for you.”

 

* * *

 

“We're back in your old room again,” Lydia said as she put her bags down. “I have so many memories in this room.”

 

“Yeah? Good ones, I hope.”

 

She shrugged, “For the most part. The ones where you were there at least.”

 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “How many memories do have in my bedroom without me?”

 

“A few. Ones I don't like to relive,” she told him quickly, and kissed his cheek.

 

They changed clothes, because it was slightly warmer in Beacon Hills than it was when they left New York, then loaded back up to head to the Christmas Tree Farm. The Sheriff drove his own vehicle to carry the tree on.

 

When they got there, Noah immediately grabbed Clara, while Stiles and Lydia assigned themselves to a three-year-old.

 

“I'll take Mia, you take Rorie?” Stiles suggested. Their nickname for Amelia had changed that past year once she and Aurora began to really talk. When they tried to say “Amelia”, it came out more like “Mia” and sort of stuck.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

As soon as the girls were out of the car, they were running around all of the trees.

 

“They're acting like they've never been to something like this before,” Noah noted.

 

“They haven't,” Lydia told him.

 

“What?” Noah glared at Stiles.

 

“What? Don't look at me like that!” Stiles yelled. “We just don't have the time to go get a live tree every year. Keeping up with it is too much work, much less adding three toddlers into the mix.”

 

“True.” Stilinski shrugged.

 

“Maybe we should start getting a live tree,” Lydia suggested. “It seems like it'd be a fun tradition.”

 

Stiles smiled, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so too. Maybe next year, we'll see how it goes.”

 

“Oh my God! Lydia?”

 

Lydia turned around to face the voice who'd called her. “Danny? Hi!” Danny came up and hugged her.

 

“I haven't seen you in forever!”

 

“Yeah, I live in New York now.” Lydia told him.

 

“Oh, that's awesome. What brings you back to Beacon Hills?”

 

Lydia smiled, and patted the Sheriff on his shoulder. “Just spending the holidays with my father-in-law.”

 

Danny looked up, confusion on his face, then turned to look at Stiles who gave a small wave. Then, he looked back at Lydia...and then back at Stiles...and back to Lydia...then to Clara in Noah's arms. “You two? Really? That...that actually happened?”

 

Lydia and Stiles both nodded, then Stiles looked up at the three-year-olds. “Okay, hey! Stop running. You're going to get hurt.”

 

Danny looked to the twins. “Are those yours too?”

 

“Yeah,” Lydia smiled, “Hey, girls. Come here.” When they got closer Lydia pointed them out, “The one in pink is Amelia, the one in purple is Aurora, and this one falling asleep in Grandpa's arms is Clara. Girls, this is Mommy and Daddy's friend, Danny. Can you be polite and say 'hello'?”

 

“Hello.”

 

“Hi!” He smiled, and turned back to Stiles. “Well, congratulations, Stilinski. I never would have thought it'd happen, but I'm happy for you. It was really good to see you guys! If I'm ever in New York, I'll let you know.” They said their goodbyes and Danny walked away, but stopped. “Oh, Stiles...for the record...you sort of have this DILF vibe going on. It's pretty impressive.”

 

Stiles put his hand to his chest, genuinely flattered, “Thank you, Danny.”

 

“Don't mention it...” he said with a wave of his hand, then paused, “but like...really don't.”

 

* * *

 

They found the perfect tree and brought it home to be decorated. A few days later, Scott and Kira came by to show off Kira's baby bump, and the expectant parents grilled Stiles and Lydia on all thing babies and birthing. (The birthing was more so the girls. Stiles and Scott had retreated into the living room for _that_ conversation, while the girls stayed in the kitchen).

 

They had Pandora on a Christmas station playing through the speakers; and Amelia and Aurora were playing with some toys in the living room while Clara was down for a nap.

 

“So...any advice?” Scott asked.

 

“Advice? About what?”

 

“Being a dad. I mean, it's like you had it all figured out from day one.”

 

Stiles laughed...loudly.

 

“You're kidding right? If you told Lydia that she'd laugh you into next Christmas."

 

“What are we talking about in here?” Noah asked as he walked into the room.

 

Before Stiles could answer... it happened. A familiar piano tune wafted through the speakers and Stiles froze for half a second.

 

_You know Dasher and Dancer and..._

 

The twins covered their ears and suddenly, Stiles sprung to his feet, nearly running into Lydia who had bolted from the kitchen to reach the phone and skip to the next song.

 

“What just happened?” Kira asked. She'd followed Lydia from the other room.

 

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized. “War flashbacks.” Then he laughed, “Hey, Lydia. Scott thought I had parenting figured out from day one.” Lydia began to laugh, so hard she was nearly in tears. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”

 

“Oh God, where should I start? That song for one. Last year, in the middle of October, he played it so Clara would stop crying and we listened to it for a month straight. Oh...and you can't forget the Great Mix Up of 2020.”

 

“What's that?” Kira asked.

 

“Wait,” Scott started. “Didn't you mention that when we came to see you a couple of years ago?”

 

“Scotty, I'm going to be honest with you,” Stiles confessed. “I don't remember a lot about your visit.”

 

“Well, let me tell you the story-” Lydia began.

 

“You should know...” Stiles interrupted. “Prior to Lydia coming into the story she'd left me alone with the twins for the first time to go to the store. I was so tired, that when I changed them, I forgot to put their onesies back on. So, here I was, severely sleep-deprived staring at two half-naked babies who looked exactly alike, and I didn't know who was who.” Then he turned back to Lydia. “Continue.”

 

 

_"Lydia, I can't do this!" Lydia heard Stiles's voice. She looked up at him holding a baby in his arms, and he seemed like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown._

 

“ _What are you talking about?" she tried to ask him calmly._

 

_He suddenly held the baby out in front of him. "Which one is she?!"_

 

_"Aurora." Lydia answered matter-of-factly._

 

_"How do you know?!"_

 

_"She's wearing purple, Stiles."_

 

_"She was in pink earlier!” he yelled, and Lydia's eyes widened. “I mixed them up, Lydia! I don't know what to do! I've been changing their colors everyday for the past two weeks!"_

 

_"What?!" Lydia screeched._

 

_"I'm sorry!"_

 

 

 

“Oh no...” Kira covered her mouth.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles and Lydia both nodded.

 

“How'd you figure it out?” Scott asked them.

 

“Well,” Lydia said, “I had to go out and buy ink pads. Then we stamped their feet and compared the footprints from the hospital records.”

 

Stiles pointed at himself, “ _Definitely_ didn't have it figured out.”

 

* * *

 

Lydia and Stiles had taken the girls to go grocery shopping a couple of days before Christmas.

 

Lydia bought a nice floral arrangement, and Stiles didn't think much about it, until he realized where they were headed on their way home.

 

“Lydia,” Stiles turned toward his wife, and slowly asked, “Who did you get the flowers for?”

 

Lydia looked over and gave him a small smile. “I figured it was time the girls met their other grandmother.”

 

Stiles, not trusting himself to speak, nodded slowly then reached out to hold her hand in appreciation.

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Lydia said, leaning her head against her husband's shoulder as they watched their three girls playing in front of Claudia Stilinski's headstone, “we should make it back to Beacon Hills more often.”

 

“I agree,” he nodded. “That'd be a good tradition.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
